Home Truths
by J9
Summary: "We're looking for the truth Sara," he told me. "Because only with the truth can we truly be free." (S/W, S/G, S/H)


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Title: Home Truths

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Author: Jeanine (jeanine@iol.ie)

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Rating: PG

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Pairing: Sara/Warrick, Sara/Grissom, Sara/Hank

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Spoilers: I've seen up to _Felonious Monk_ and am spoiled for what's gone on in season three up to this; but it's pretty much au from there. 

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Feedback: Makes my day

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Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.

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Archive: At my site Checkmate (http://helsinkibaby.topcities.com/csi/csific.htm) , Fanfiction.net; anywhere else, please ask.

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Summary: "_We're looking for the truth Sara," he told me. "Because only with the truth can we truly be free."_

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Author's Notes: In my own defence, I came up with this when I was on antibiotics for bronchitis…it made sense at the time!

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This is, as my mother is so fond of saying, one of those perfect days, and looking around me now, I can see what she means. The summer sun is shining down on us from a bright blue sky, with only the odd wisp of cloud being buffeted by on a warm breeze. The surf is cresting gently on the sand as the tide recedes, and from where I sit, I can see my mother walking along the edges of the dry sand, holding my four year old daughter by the hand, pointing out the prettiest shells to her. The man I love sits behind me, me nestled in the v of his legs, his arms wrapped around my waist, his head on my shoulder. 

This is indeed one of those perfect days and I should be in a perfect mood. 

But I'm not. 

It's strange, because literally everything in my life is going well right now. Which maybe is part of why I'm so apprehensive. After all, the last two times that things have been going well in my life, something's happened to screw it up, or to potentially screw it up. The first time was all my fault, and while it could have been disastrous, it didn't turn out that way, and if I'm honest, it's not something that I regret.

The second time; well, the second time, I'm still recovering from. 

"That's a big sigh," the man behind me says, and I bite my lip, not having even been aware of sighing, though I'm sure I probably did. My thoughts aren't exactly what you'd call cheery right now. "You want to get out of here?"

I smile to myself, not turning, because for the longest time, that wouldn't be such a hard conclusion to reach. Tamales Bay was the place that I never wanted to be stuck in, the place that I worked my entire high school life to get away from. I wanted to get out of here, to go to college, get out and stay out, and never come back. 

Well, I got out. Got out, went to college in Boston and to work in San Francisco, and then later, to Las Vegas. I loved Vegas, loved everything about it; the city, the energy, the work, the people I worked with. For the first time in my life, I had friends, real friends. 

It was there that I met my husband, through work, naturally. One thing lead to another, and we ended up dating, which turned to marriage, and we lived there happily until four years ago. I was four months pregnant when my dad had a heart attack, and that was something of a wake up call for my family. We'd barely spent any time together since I left for college, and when it was touch and go, when I was faced with losing my dad, I realised that I wanted to know him, that I wanted my child to know him. I was wondering how to broach the subject of moving to my husband when he surprised me, literally bringing home transfer papers for us both one night. Leaving was hard, but I knew it was the right thing to do. 

We both got jobs in San Francisco, finally getting off the night shift, although there were times, when Leonie was teething for example, that I think we both would have welcomed a little escape. At weekends, on days off, which we co-ordinated with great difficulty, and lots of compassion from our bosses, we would go up to Tamales Bay, stay with my parents and spend our days in town, or on the beach. Leonie grew up loving the beach; even now as we look at her, she turns and catches my eye, waving at us with a big smile on her face. Her sandy blonde hair is blowing in every direction, and I know I'm going to have a hell of a time brushing the tangles out when we get her back to the B&B, but that's not what makes the lump rise in my throat. That's caused by her father's eyes staring back at me, and I have to force a smile to my face as I wave back at her. This time, I do hear my own sigh. 

The arms around my waist squeeze for a brief moment, a question, a measure of concern, and I tell him that I'm fine, though I'm not sure that he believes me. "Just thinking, that's all."

"You've been doing a lot of that lately," comes the observation. "Something you want to tell me?"

I swallow hard, because the moment of truth that I've been dreading for so long has finally arrived. Something someone once said to me floats through my brain, something about the truth setting you free, and I can still see that wise smile and those blue eyes and their teasing glint every time he'd come out with one of those little aphorisms of his. I haven't thought about that in years, and I guess right now I'm going to find out if he was right or not. I've always been afraid that he was wrong though, which is why I kept quiet, why it's taking me so long to turn around now and do what has to be done. I've kept this to myself for years, afraid that the truth would cost me the man I loved. 

I just never expected it to happen like this. 

I shift in his arms, turning slightly so that I'm facing him. His arms stay around my waist, not moving at all, and when I see the worry in his face, my heart lurches unpleasantly. This really isn't something I'm looking forward to doing, but he needs to know this. 

"I need to tell you something," I say, looking down, steeling myself. "Something about Leonie." A lump in my throat stops me from saying more, and I wait for the questions that will inevitably come. 

Instead, he takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and I take the extra few seconds to prepare myself for what might follow. Still, I'm nowhere near prepared for his words.

"Sara," he says slowly. "I know."

My head flies up to meet his gaze, and I'm sure that my confusion is written all over my face. His is clear though, not a trace of guile, and I shake my head. If I was having trouble speaking before, it's even worse now, and all I can get out is, "How?"

He shrugs. "I've got eyes Sara. And so does she." He looks away from me, over my shoulder, and I know that he's looking at her. "Grissom's eyes."

I blink back tears at the mention of the name. "How long?"

Another shrug. "First time I came out here." 

"And you never said anything," I mutter, one tear escaping, and I swallow hard against any more. 

He chuckles, not in a mean way, giving me a small smile as he reaches up and wipes away the tear. "Neither did you," he points out, ever logical, and I have to give him that. "You want to tell me now?"

Slowly, I nod, and once I start talking, it's like a dam breaking inside me. I go right back to the start, while skipping some of the stuff he already knows; like how Hank and I met. My mother never gets tired of hearing that story; the idea of me rappelling out of a helicopter and landing right in front of him tickles her romantic bones, something like a modern day fairy tale. She doesn't know about how hard it was for us to get together in the first place, how our first date was interrupted by Catherine throwing a severed finger down on the table in front of us. She doesn't know how, for a long time, I kept Hank at arm's length because I had a crush on Grissom. 

That had been a long-standing thing, ever since the first day I met him at that seminar he was giving. We talked afterwards, and I just remember feeling like I'd finally met someone who understood me, someone who was just like me. I'd never had that before. We kept in touch, and when he called me, telling me that he needed help in Vegas, from someone he trusted, I was on the next plane. I hoped that something would start between us, and that hope was a long time dying. Even after I met Hank, began going to movies with him, going out to dinner with him, I still held on to the notion that he wasn't my boyfriend, that sooner or later, Grissom and I would be together. 

It never happened. 

And it's not something I regret, not really. I concentrated on my relationship with Hank, and it's not like I married him without loving him. I did love him. It might not have been that groundbreaking, earth shaking love that you read about in books or see in the movies, but I did love him, and he was a good husband to me. I never once regretted marrying him. 

Which isn't to say that we didn't fight. I've got a temper, and while Hank was patient to a fault, every so often, he'd reach a point where I'd push him beyond his limits, and he'd give as good as he got. That led to some serious arguments; one of which was more serious than the others. We were only married six months, still in the honeymoon period, but this fight, and I can't even remember what it was about, was major. It ended up with me storming out of the house, slamming the door hard on my way, and going to the lab. That was where I always used to go to work off my frustrations. I must have been the worst person to be partnered with that day, and at the end of the shift, Grissom came to talk to me, asking me what the problem was. We ended up going to his place, where I drank a little whiskey and told him everything that had gone on. 

To this day, I don't know if it was the whiskey, or the fight, or just the fact that my old crush resurfaced, or a combination of all three. All I know is that one minute he was putting his arm around me to comfort me as I cried; the next we were rolling around the living room floor, tearing one another's clothes off. 

I woke up in his arms, and I can still see him lying there. I'd never seen him looking so peaceful, so content. Until he woke up that is. Then, doubt crept into his eyes, and my stomach sank, because I knew that this was going to change everything between us. In that brief moment of truth, I knew that I didn't want things to change. I wanted things with Grissom to be the way that they had always been, and I didn't want to lose my marriage. He saw that in my face, and we got dressed and we talked about it, all very grown up and logical, and he pointed out that I was still a newlywed, that I hadn't given my marriage a chance, and that I shouldn't throw it away on his account. Maybe I should have felt hurt, I should have felt slighted, but the bottom line was, I felt the same way. What had happened with Grissom had been unexpected, had been a mistake, something that should never have happened. We both thought that, and we agreed that it would never happen again, and that we'd never mention it again. 

It never did, and we never did. I went back home, found Hank asleep on the couch. I woke him, and we talked about the fight, and we made up, and I never told him where I'd been, who I'd been with. 

Six weeks later, I realised that I was late, and I knew. Oh, you can mock, you can make all the jokes about women's intuition and a mother's instinct that you like. I knew the statistical likelihood of the baby being Hank's, and the likelihood of it being Grissom's. I knew which one was more likely. 

But none of that mattered, because I knew that the child I was carrying wasn't my husband's. 

One look at Grissom told me that he knew it too, or at least suspected, but true to his word, he never asked. 

I don't know what would have happened had we lived in Las Vegas when Leonie was born. But Dad had his heart attack, and we nearly lost him, and we moved to San Francisco the next month. When she was born, when I saw her eyes, Grissom's eyes, I knew that what I'd known in my heart had been right. I considered telling Grissom, telling Hank, but in the end, I decided not to. We had a life together, a life and a family I loved, and I knew that I'd never have that with Grissom, that I didn't want it with Grissom. Hank was my husband, and he and Leonie were my family, and that was all there was to it. 

The next seventeen months were the happiest of my life, though I'd be lying if I said that I didn't think about Grissom and my secret. I just tried not to dwell on it too much, and for the most part, I succeeded. Hank was a great father, and I turned into one of those mothers that I'd always avoided like the plague in the past, the kind who takes endless photos and bores people silly with their darling's latest exploits. Her first Christmas, first birthday, first words; we shared all those milestones, and we were more in love than ever that November morning that I stood at the door with Leonie on my hip and we kissed him goodbye as he went to work. I had the day off, and I went out to start the food shopping for Thanksgiving, and I had also intended to look around some toy stores for Leonie's Christmas presents. I've never been a great shopper though, and definitely not when I've got a baby in my arms, so I was home quite early, and I'd just put her down for an afternoon nap when the phone rang. 

I pounced on it, hoping that it hadn't woken her up. 

It hadn't, but my screams did. 

Turned out that what had been a seemingly routine call to a shooting had turned ugly, one of the gang members returning to the scene of the crime. Once he'd seen the uniforms, he'd opened fire, killing two EMTs before fleeing the scene. They told me that it had probably been a lucky shot, that Hank had never known what hit him, and I hope that they're right. The killer, a seventeen-year-old kid, was caught three days later, and all I could think of was all the cases that I'd worked just like that, where I'd thought that catching the criminal would provide the families with some sense of closure. 

I sat on our bed that night, Leonie sleeping beside me, tears streaming down my face, but I didn't feel like I'd been given any closure. 

I hadn't seen any of the Vegas gang since we'd moved back to San Francisco, mostly keeping in touch with letters and calls, so it was a surprise when they all arrived up for the funeral. I hadn't called them, hadn't called anyone, well meaning friends doing tasks like that for me, and I later found that one of Hank's EMT friends had called Grissom and told him. How he managed to swing letting the whole night shift, plus Greg and Brass arrive en mass, I don't know; I'm sure he must have promised Ecklie the moon and the stars to make it happen. But there they all were anyway, and I'd promised myself that I'd be strong, but the second I saw them, I went straight to pieces. 

They didn't stay long, and Leonie was sleeping when they got to see her. That has to be something that she got from her father, because unlike me, she can sleep through anything. That's why they didn't see her eyes, because she didn't stir as they passed her around from one to the other, and the image of Grissom holding her, looking at her so intently, has never left me. 

After the funeral, I took some time off, re-evaluated my life. Mom and Dad were great, and I practically moved back into the B&B for quite a while. I considered going back to Vegas; considered moving somewhere new altogether, but in the end, I knew that I needed my family around me more than ever. Leonie was the most important thing, and she was the centre of my world from then on. It was over a year before I spent a night away from her, and that wasn't my idea, but it was something I had to do. 

I knew when the phone rang at seven in the morning that it wasn't good news. No-one ever calls at that hour of the morning with good news. I wasn't prepared to hear Catherine's voice, filled with tears, on the other end of the line, wasn't prepared for what she told me. 

Once I'd pulled myself together, I made three phone calls. One to my mom, asking her to come up to take care of Leonie. One to work, to tell them that I had to take some time off. And one to the airlines, to book a flight to Vegas. 

For some reason though, I couldn't make myself go to the funeral, couldn't make myself go to the graveside. Instead I stood well back, well apart from the crowd as I watched them lower the casket into the ground, hardly able to believe that I was at Grissom's funeral. Killed by a drunk driver, at the age of fifty two, without ever knowing that Leonie was his daughter. That's the only time I ever regretted not telling him, though I do believe he always knew. 

I was going to leave, take an earlier flight back. Instead, my rental car seemed to have a mind of its own, and I found myself going to a house that I knew well, sitting on the front steps, waiting for him to come home. I saw him before he saw me, saw the confusion on his face when he saw the unfamiliar car and no driver inside it. When he did see me though, he gave me one of those million dollar smiles of his and came up to me, shaking his head. "I thought I saw you hanging around back there," he said, and I stood up, giving him a hug. 

"I just couldn't-" I began, tears creeping up my throat and choking my voice, and he released me, hand squeezing one shoulder gently. 

"Cath figured," he said sympathetically as I clenched my jaw, willing myself to be strong. "Said it wasn't that long since Hank-" He stopped talking then, as if afraid that he'd set me off again, and he stepped past me, putting his key in the lock. "Come on in," he said. 

We sat down with a beer, and he caught me up on all the CSI gossip, everything that had been going on. "Cath's gonna be supervisor," he said. "And, it looks as if Nick's gonna be made an honest man out of."

"Really?" That surprised me, because I hadn't heard much of the woman in Nick's life. 

"Oh yeah," he confirmed. "Serious line. Nora. Assistant to some bigshot executive in town. You'll have to come back out some time and meet her. And…" His eyes gleamed as something occurred to him. "You've got to meet our new recruit."

"Yeah?"

"Sanders took one look at her and his head started spinning around. We thought he was crazy over you, this was something else. They're another couple in for the long haul."

I was shocked, I'll admit that. "My Greggo, all grown up and getting married," I murmured. "What's her name?"

His lips quirked. "Tabitha." He took a beat, letting my mind make the obvious connection. "Tabby for short."

In spite of the occasion, I laughed, couldn't stop. "You mean…on the night shift, you've got two female CSIs named Cat and Tabby?" 

He was laughing too. "We think that HR was having fun with us. But she's cool." He took a long hit of his beer. "She's not you. But she's cool."

I laughed some more at that, and in that instant, it hit me that I'd missed him most of all. Grissom was so many things to me - mentor, crush, father figure, and for one night, my lover. Catherine was the sister I'd never had, Nick and Greg my two bratty brothers. 

But Warrick? He was my best friend. 

After a contentious start, he was the one that I was closest to, the one that I would go to to talk things out with, the only one I ever let in to my personal life. He was the only one I told about my first date with Hank, and he was the first one to know that we were officially dating. When Hank proposed, I told Warrick before I even called my parents, and he was the one who first guessed that I was pregnant, when we were on our way to a crime scene and I had to get him to stop the car so that I could throw up. He got out of the car, stood off to the side until I was finished; then he handed me a bottle of water and a handkerchief, with the words, "How far along?" With a sheepish smile, I told him, grabbing some crackers that I'd stashed in my kit box, the only thing I'd found to keep the nausea at bay. Ever after, until I left, he carried a stash in his field kit too, just in case. 

He was my best friend, and I'd never realised how much I missed him. 

He told me that he had to go to work, but offered me another beer, which I declined, telling him that I had to find a hotel for the night. He laughed at that, telling me that I was staying with him - not asking me, mind, telling me. I told him that I didn't want to be a bother, and he laughed again, telling me that he wasn't finished with me yet, that he wanted to know all about that daughter of mine. He also suggested that I come by the lab when they were all getting off shift, something which he could tell I wasn't too keen on doing, and the last thing he said to me was a promise that he wouldn't let on that I was there. 

After he left, I had a lot of time to think, and I came to a decision, to do as he'd suggested. I got to CSI slightly early, and had a look around, going to Grissom's office, a lump forming in my throat when I realised that it hadn't changed a bit. It still had mountains of paperwork on the desk, the Big Mouth Billy Bass was still out of batteries, and I wondered if he'd ever realised that the reason they ran out so often was because of a shift tradition that whenever batteries ran out in our pagers, we'd take them from Billy. It looked as if he'd just stepped out for a cup of coffee, and would be back any minute to lecture me about trusting in the evidence. 

I don't know how long I was standing there, lost in thought when a familiar voice behind me said, "Excuse me, you're not supposed to be-" That was all he got out before I turned, and I got the full Greg Sanders smile. "I don't believe it," he laughed, voice rising several octaves as he bounded across to me and pulled me into a hug. "Sara Peddigrew, what are you doing here?" I shrugged, and I saw the realisation on his face when he pulled back. "Never mind that," he said, dragging me along the halls. "Come on, let's find the rest of the gang." 

They were as happy to see me as Greg had been, though Warrick came in for a bit of a tough time from Nick when he realised that he'd seen me already. Catherine decided that we should all go out for breakfast, and Nick called his girlfriend to meet us there. Tabby came too, though she made a great show of sticking like glue to Greg, and she was more than a little reserved with me, something that amused Warrick hugely. He teased me about it when we got back to his place, but there was nothing new in that. Warrick always teased me, about everything. 

We talked some more, about Leonie, and I showed him some photos, looking for the recognition in his face, wondering would he see whose daughter she really was, but nothing registered. He put me in his spare room, and he followed me to the airport, hugging me when I got to the gate, telling me not to leave it so long the next time. 

When I got home and turned on my computer, there was an email from him waiting for me, checking that I'd got home all right. I replied, and that was the start of a deluge of correspondence between us. Between that and the phone calls, we talked more than we had even when I was living in Vegas, and when he told me in August of that year that he had some leave coming, and that maybe he'd like to see some of California, I told him to come out and stay with us. 

I was slightly worried that Leonie wouldn't take to him, even though she'd been talking to him for months on the phone, responding well to his voice. I should have known better though, because my little girl is everybody's friend, and she adored Warrick on sight, and he her. I'd co-ordinated my leave with his, and we spent a couple of days in San Francisco to start with, allowing us to get used to living under one another's feet, and then we went on a road trip all over the state, taking it in turns to drive and keep Leonie occupied. Our final destination was Tamales Bay, where we stayed with my parents, who, like Leonie, adopted Warrick into the family straight away, and then we had a couple more days at home in San Francisco. 

The thing that sticks out most in my mind from that trip is the day that we visited Santa Monica, walked along the pier there. I'd been there so many times, but Warrick had only ever seen it in films and TV shows, so he was eager to visit it. We did the whole tourist experience there, waving to Leonie as she went on the merry-go-rounds, walking up and down the pier, looking at the street artists, Leonie riding high on Warrick's shoulders, loving every minute of it. Trying to convince her that she had to get down if she wanted some candy floss, because otherwise, we knew it'd end up all over Warrick. Me holding her as we watched Warrick win her a huge stuffed dolphin at the ring toss. I let Leonie down not a moment too soon, because she nearly fell out of my arms in her efforts to get over to Warrick to hug his legs, and he gave me a bemused smile in response. I couldn't stop laughing at the two of them, and it was then that an elderly woman beside me, who'd been watching us as we watched Warrick, spoke up. She complimented me on my lovely daughter, and when I thanked her, she continued that my husband and I must be very proud of her. I didn't understand her at first, and it was only when she said that it did her heart good, in this day and age, to see such a happy family, that I understood what had happened. 

I was going to protest, to tell her that we weren't a family at all, when something stopped me. I looked over at Warrick and Leonie, heads pressed together, chuckling at something that one of them had said, and my heart nearly broke. Because all of a sudden, I knew that all I wanted was for what that woman had said to be true. I wanted Warrick in my life, in Leonie's life, and I had for a long time. 

If he noticed a change in my mood, he didn't say anything about it, not until our last night together. We were back in San Francisco, and I was cleaning up after dinner, as Warrick put Leonie to bed and read her a story or three. I'd just finished up in the kitchen when he came down, a smile on his face. "Four stories," he told me. "A new record."

I tried to force a smile to my face, knowing how much I was going to miss him, knowing how close his departure was. "What am I going to do without you?" I asked, keeping my tone light with some difficulty, the comment nearer to the truth than I wanted to admit. He blinked, but his face was otherwise blank, and I turned away from him, wiping down an already spotless counter. 

"You'll manage," he said, dropping a hand briefly on to my shoulder as he moved towards the fridge. I heard him open it, could picture him looking into it, and he asked me, "Drink? We have either beer or wine."

"Beer," I said, knowing that the only wine we had was red, and that it made me hopelessly maudlin and weepy. When I turned towards him, he was leaning back against the fridge, holding out a bottle to me, one for himself in his other hand, and we made our way into the living room, settling down on the couch to watch whatever cop show was on that night and nit-pick the forensics loopholes. 

We spent the night sitting there like that, and sometimes we talked about the shows, sometime we talked about cases that we'd worked together way back when. We talked about Leonie and the things that she'd said and done with each of us. I was all too aware of the fact that he was going home the next day, and I was trying to keep that in the back of my mind, trying not to think about it too much, and it was very late, when I was half asleep, my head resting on his shoulder, that he mentioned it. 

"So…" he drawled, looping his arm casually around my shoulder. "You gonna miss me?"

I took a moment to consider my reply, whether to make a joke out of it, or to be serious. In the end, I settled for somewhere in between the two, while giving him a non-answer. "It's been a great two weeks," I told him, meaning every word, and he nodded. 

"Sure has."

"And Leonie's going to miss you," I added. "She thinks you pretty much hung the moon."

He craned his neck in the direction of the stairs, as if he could see into her room by doing it. "I'm gonna miss her," he admitted. "She's a special kid."

I almost told him. Right then and there, I almost told him, and the whole situation brought tears of pure frustration into my eyes. I knew I was going to miss him like crazy anyway, and I was so sure that if he knew about Leonie and Hank and Grissom that he'd be angry with me, that he'd hate me, and I knew that I couldn't handle that. But I also knew that I didn't want there to be any secrets between us, and I just didn't know what to do for the best. 

Swallowing hard, I moved forward, out of his arms, starting to stand, ostensibly to get us some more drinks. I might even have muttered something about doing that, but he wasn't going to let me away with that, gripping me by the wrist. When I turned to look at him, worry was written all over his face, and I couldn't look away from him. "Sara, what's wrong?" 

Those were the only words he said, and I couldn't have replied if I'd wanted to. I just shook my head, and he let out a long sigh, pulling me down on to the couch, wrapping his arms around me. He held on to me for a long time, letting me cry and I just clung on to him for dear life. 

When I finally got a hold of myself, I pulled away from him, giving him a self-conscious grin. He still had that vaguely worried look on his face, but there was something else there too when he reached up and wiped my cheeks. His hand lingered there for a moment, and it seemed like I knew he was going to kiss me ages before he actually did. In reality, it can't have been that long, and when his lips touched mine, I lost all sense of space and time and everything else. The only thing I could concentrate on, the only thing I could think of, was him. 

How long we stayed there like that, I don't know, but I don't think I've spent as much time necking on a couch since I was a teenager. Come to think of it, I don't think I even did that much when I was a teenager. Eventually though, we broke apart, standing up, making our way to my bedroom, where we both stripped down to our underwear, and just held one another, sleeping in one another's arms for the rest of the night. 

He had an afternoon flight back, and the next morning was spent kissing some more, and in the middle of all that, we had a conversation about us. We agreed that we'd done the right thing in not making love the night before; that we both wanted to see where we were going before we took that next step. First and foremost for both of us was the notion that we both wanted to always be friends, no matter what else might happen between us. That much agreed, we got up, made breakfast, played with Leonie for a while, then we drove him to the airport. 

The drive back from the airport seemed to take forever, and there was a part of me that was sure he would come to his senses on his way back to Vegas, that he'd realise he didn't want to be in a long distance relationship with a woman who had a child. So it was a relief when the phone rang and I heard his voice on the other end, low and teasing, sending shivers up my spine. Once Leonie heard who was on the phone, she was determined to talk to him, and I had a hard time getting the receiver away from her, but I felt better at the end of the call, happier than I had for a long time. 

Ever since then, he's been coming out here on weekends, once a month, maybe twice if he can manage it at work. The rest of the Vegas gang know what's going on between us; they've even started taking bets on who'll make it to the altar first, Warrick, Greg or Nick. Catherine keeps asking me when I'm going to visit them, and so far, I've been able to put her off, claiming that Leonie is too young to make the journey. In reality though, I'm scared stiff that one of them will see her and put two and two together, and I didn't want that to happen before I told Warrick. 

It was on one of those weekend visits, just before Christmas, that we finally made love for the first time, and since then, I've been trying to come up with the right time to tell him the secret that could tear us apart. 

This weekend, we came to Tamales Bay to celebrate Leonie's fourth birthday with my parents, and for just that reason, my secret's been very much on my mind, hence his comment about me doing a lot of "thinking". I'm usually pretty quiet on Leonie's birthday, but my parents have always put it down to the fact that I'm upset that her father isn't here to share it. I let them think that, since I have no idea how to explain the truth to them, let them know how messed up my life was. 

I think it surprised them that the same thing happened this year, with Warrick here, and more than once I've caught my mom looking at me strangely. I think she knows that there's something going on between us, something that we need to work out, and it was her idea that we go for this walk on the beach, her idea that she take Leonie down to the water to look for shells, allowing Warrick and me to have some time alone. 

"I know I should have told you," I tell him, nearing the end of my story, still hardly able to believe that he's known the truth all along. "But I was so afraid that you would hate me…that I'd lose you…"

He shakes his head, lifting one hand and laying a finger over my lips. "It's gonna take more than that to scare me off," he tells me firmly. His hand moves down then, finding mine, threading our fingers together, and that's where I find myself looking. "I know why you did what you did Sara…I can understand it." He sighs. "You were just doing the best you could."

I'm still looking down, not able to meet his gaze, even now. "I should've told Grissom." My voice is quiet. "He deserved to know…"

"I think he did." Warrick's words shock me, and my head snaps up. "I cleaned out his office," he continues. "I spent an entire day going through the place, figuring what to keep, what to junk. And one of the things that I found in his desk was the photo of Leonie that you and Hank mailed to us when she was born." I remember the photo well; Hank e-mailed it to everyone he knew in Vegas, then got into my address book and did the same. He was so proud of her. "He'd printed it out, kept it. I never knew why he did that, not till the first time I saw her eyes. Then it all made sense to me." 

I let out a slow breath, tilting my head up to the skies, letting that particular regret float away. "Hank never knew," I said. "And when he died…I couldn't go to Grissom, tell him. What would that have looked like? I never dreamed that anything could happen to him…"

"None of us did." Warrick's voice is sombre. "Sara, I love you." The words make my heart lurch into my throat. "And I love Leonie. You know that. Doesn't matter what you tell me; that's not going to change."

"Most men wouldn't be so understanding," I tell him, knowing how true that statement is. 

He shrugs, trying to downplay the compliment. "I'm not most men."

"I know," I whisper, wrapping my arms around his neck and burrowing my head into his shoulder. I feel him do likewise, his hands resting on my back, his sigh smothered by my hair. 

"I don't want us to go on like we've been doing." His words are so at odds with what he's just been telling me that my heart skips a beat for a moment and I pull back to stare at him. He chuckles at the look of horror on my face. "I didn't mean it like that," he amends. "I mean, I don't want us to be a part time thing. I want to make this real."

I nod slowly. "That's what I want too." 

"So I was thinking," he continues. "That we can keep our ears to the ground…see if anything opens up in the San Francisco Crime Lab…you can put in a good word for me…"

I try very hard to keep the smile from my face. "Or…" I draw the word out. "I heard that Dobson wants to get off the night shift." His face registers surprise, because I've never met Dobson, who joined the Vegas department when they lost Grissom. There's no reason that I should know that about him. No reason but one, and I see the conclusion play across his face. 

"Catherine," he says.

"Catherine," I confirm. "She as good as told me that it's mine. If I want it."

"And do you want it?" he asks, brow furrowing. "I mean…with Leonie…your family's here…"

"True." But my mom had a conversation with me earlier on today, something about following my heart and going wherever it took me. We never could have had that conversation four years ago, but our relationship is completely different now, and I know it's not something that's going to disappear just because I'm living in a different state. "But you're part of my family too now. And you're there." 

"Are you sure?" He's studying me hard, and I smile. 

"I love you Warrick. And this is what I want." 

A huge smile breaks across his face, and he kisses me hard as we tumble back on to the sand, laughing together. We break apart only when there's a loud squeal from somewhere nearby, and Warrick reacts just in time to catch Leonie as she barrels into his arms, telling him all about the shells that she's found. He listens to her attentively, allowing her to pull him up by the hand, fairly dragging him down towards the shoreline so that he can see for himself. 

I stand too, but take my time following them, instead looking after them as they head off hand in hand together, and my mother appears at my side, sliding her arm around my waist. "Everything ok?" she asks, as if my beaming smile wasn't answer enough. 

"Yeah." I grin over at her, my gaze quickly drawn back to the two figures disappearing into the distance. "We're going to move back to Vegas."

"I can't say I'm surprised." From the tone of her voice, that wry half-smile I can hear there, I'm half-afraid what she's going to come out with next. It turns out to be a fairly benign, "He'll take care of you."

I shake my head. "No," I decide, and just out of the corner of my eye, I see her head turn sharply. "We'll take care of each other." 

She chuckles, her arm tightening around my waist. "I don't doubt it," she murmurs. "I only ever wanted you to be happy Sara," she says then, the suddenly serious tone of her voice making me turn my head towards her. "Are you?"

I nod, once again tears rising in my throat. "I really am Mom." I turn to her, see her smiling at me, and on impulse, I hug her and when she releases me, she gives me a little push, sending me on my way down the beach to join them. Leonie sees me coming and begins to run towards me, and I catch her, swinging her up off her feet into the air, catching his reproving look, because he thinks that she's getting too big for me to be doing that. I blithely ignore it though, setting her down, taking one of her hands in mine, as she reaches out, taking Warrick's in her other, and that's how we walk down the beach together, Warrick and me exchanging smiles as Leonie chatters away nineteen to the dozen. 

I can't help but think of Mom's last question, and my answer. I told her that I was happy, and it's true; I am. My secret has been a part of me for so long, and it was always in the back of my mind that it would come out, that it would ruin everything. That I'd never be as happy as I am right now. But that's all gone now. There are no more secrets; there's just me and him and Leonie, and our future together. 

Leonie looks up at me now and smiles, and I see her father's eyes staring back at me, and in that instant, it's not her voice I hear, but his, and the words that passed through my mind earlier. I was obsessing over some case or other, and he was, as usual, trying to bring me back. "We're looking for the truth Sara," he told me. "Because only with the truth can we truly be free." It's been a long time coming, but I know now that he was right. The truth has set me free, and I'm going home. 


End file.
